by Joe Nobody
Big Jim’s summons to the main headquarters wasn’t all that unusual. His captain’s tone was.
“I’m taking you off the roster today,” his superior announced. “I have a feeling you’re going to be downtown for the entire shift.”
Marwick didn’t like being called to the principal’s office any more than a factory worker enjoyed being ordered to report to his manager. Still, he wasn’t aware of anything he had done wrong. Maybe he was being promoted or had earned an award.
The big cop recognized the assistant district attorney as he ambled into the conference room, the man’s presence dispelling any thought of reward or glory. When he saw the police union’s lawyer sitting at the other end of the table, a sick feeling rose in the officer’s gut. Here we go again, the sergeant said to himself.
“Thank you for coming,” Tony began after everyone was seated.
As if I had a choice, Marwick thought.
“I took the liberty of asking Mr. Randolph from the Houston Police Officer’s Union to join us in order to expedite the process,” the ADA continued. “I hope you don’t mind, Officer Marwick.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“We’re here today to review the Jacob Chase incident. I assume you’re familiar with that arrest, sir?”
It was rare for Jim to feel genuine surprise, and it showed on his face. The encounter with the basketball player hadn’t been at the forefront of his thinking. “Vaguely,” he responded. “That arrest wasn’t any big deal as I recall. I’ve dealt with a lot more serious matters since.”
Tony clearly didn’t like the officer’s answer, his response far more harsh than he intended. “Well, Officer Marwick, it’s getting ready to be a big deal… a very big deal.”
“Is my client being accused of wrongdoing?” asked the union lawyer.
“Not officially. Not yet. But I am reasonably sure that is coming down the pike, Counselor. That is why District Attorney Sanders recommended I request your presence here today.”
Tony opened a thick folder resting on the table, shuffling through a few sheets of paper before pulling out the desired document. “What was your probable cause to initiate the traffic stop that night?” he fired.
“The suspect executed an improper stop, exceeding the designated zone with the front of his vehicle.”
Tony wrote the officer’s response in the margin of his paper and then continued. “Where was this improper stop? What intersection?”
“I don’t recall exactly,” Big Jim replied. “I was following the suspect’s car because I found it suspicious that such a young operator was out on the streets at that hour. That, and the temporary tags prompted me to tail him for some distance, in an attempt to determine if there were any criminal activity in progress.”
“And was there?”
“No, not until I decided to initiate the stop. When the driver failed to pull over, I believed he was stalling for some reason. I watched to see if the passenger threw anything out of the vehicle, such as narcotics or stolen merchandise, but I didn’t witness any such act. There was a lot of movement inside, which made it appear as though the occupants were hiding something. By the time the driver curbed the car, I had already called in for backup due to the possible evasion.”
The only noise in the room was the scratching of Tony’s pen as he continued to note the officer’s response. Finally, without looking up, he asked, “How far did Mr. Chase continue to drive after you turned on your emergency lights?”
“I don’t recall exactly,” Jim responded, trying to buy time and figure out exactly where this was all going.
“An estimate of the approximate distance will suffice, Officer.”
The union lawyer sensed something was wrong and interjected, “Is there a problem, Tony?”
The assistant DA nodded, producing a laptop computer from his briefcase. He opened the device and clicked on a few keys. “This is a video discovered by Mr. Chase’s defense attorney. It is from a storage business’s surveillance system, located just three blocks away from where the arrest occurred. You’ll notice that Officer Marwick’s emergency lights are not engaged as the two cars passed through the camera’s field of view.”
Big Jim wanted to explode, his temper flashing hot before the grainy black and white image of his squad car showed in the frame. How dare they question the word of a peace officer, he thought. I’m so sick of every fucking step we take being recorded by some obscure piece of shit camera. It took all of his discipline to keep his emotions in check.
The sergeant took a deep breath to calm his voice, and then smiled when the right answer popped into his brain. “There is a reasonable explanation for that, sir. Several times during the pursuit I believed the suspect was about to stop his vehicle. I was in an unfamiliar patrol car that evening, having traded shifts for personal reasons. When I believed the suspect was pulling over, I tried to switch the light bar to the rear-only setting, and I remember having inadvertently hit the wrong button. That must have been right when we were passing in front of the camera.”
Tony stared hard across the table, not believing a single word he’d just heard. But he held his tongue, recalling that the witness and he were on the same side – for now.
“Okay, that makes sense,” the ADA lied. “I want to go back to a statement you made earlier. You stated that, and I quote, ‘Such a young operator was out on the streets at that hour.’ So you could see the driver clearly?”
Big Jim shrugged, “Clear enough to make a reasonable estimation of his age.”
“Had you ever seen Mr. Chase before that night?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of,” the cop lied again.
Tony moved back to the laptop, the sound of keystrokes sounding in the otherwise silent room. He spun the display around and said, “Do you recall this incident just three nights before Mr. Chase’s arrest?”
The video this time was of Junior’s basketball game, the clip shortened to show the blocked shot smacking Big Jim in the shoulder as he stood beside the court.
The union lawyer spoke before Big Jim had a chance, “This is ridiculous, Tony. Are you implying my client had it in for Mr. Chase because of a blocked jump shot? That’s really a stretch.”
Tony shook his head, “I spoke with the coach of Officer Marwick’s son’s team this morning. He stated that the shot blocked by Mr. Chase had been taken by the officer’s son. Furthermore, he informed me that the young Mr. Marwick had been in the running for a potential scholarship, but that Jacob Chase’s performance during the city championship game had put the officer’s son out of contention. Furthermore, he confided in me that there had been an on-court incident between Officer Marwick, the officer’s son, and the coach himself during halftime of the game. So no, Mr. Randolph, I don’t think this is a stretch at all. My opinion, however, doesn’t matter. It’s the jury who will determine if the officer’s frame of mind had any bearing on his actions that night.”
The exchange gave Big Jim time to think. “I didn’t recognize him before, during, or after the arrest,” he stated firmly. “It is merely a coincidence. I don’t even like basketball and can produce numerous witnesses, including several men in my precinct, who will testify to that fact.”
The interview continued for three more hours, Tony doing his best to prepare Marwick for what he could expect once Adam got him on the stand. During the entire ebb and flow, Tony realized the man across the table from him was a well-practiced liar, and he was on the verge of erupting in anger at any moment.
Dishonesty wasn’t a rare skill among law enforcement ranks. Most experienced cops developed the ability to maneuver the minefield of cross-examination with minor inaccuracies. They learned to fight off conniving, scumbag lawyers who were skilled at spinning the truth to free lawbreakers. It was a tool, in their minds, to keep criminals off the street and away from polite society.
As the afternoon dragged on, Tony began to sense that Officer Marwick’s abilities exceeded far beyond justifiable white li
es that had been conjured to thwart legal loopholes or crafty defense tactics. The assistant DA became convinced that Big Jim’s creativity was fueled by some lopsided view of how the citizenry should be policed. The officer was clearly angry at being challenged at all, projecting an air of disdain that his word was being questioned.
He was a playground bully, Tony finally decided. He stumbled into being a cop, and for the first time in his life, the undying need to control others was sanctioned and respected. It was a common diagnosis, an occasional scoundrel in uniform relishing the gratification of being able to impose his will on the misbehaving examples of his fellow man. A perfect job for the oppressor, the ADA mused.
Driving back from the police station, Tony dialed his boss’s cell. “He’s a powder keg,” he informed Karen bluntly. “If Adam gets a sense of that on cross examination, he’ll press Officer Marwick, and the guy will blow sky high. And I don’t have to remind you that any under-oath rant this guy spouts will result in exponentially greater sums being paid by the city if they win the civil suit.”
“I understand,” the DA responded. “Have they filed the formal complaint against the officer?”
“Yes, they did so this morning.”
The pause that followed was so long that Tony had to check to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. His boss’s voice finally came back, “Let’s put a little reverse pressure on the kid. I have two specific detectives from Internal Affairs in mind. I’ll call the chief and recommend that they’re assigned to the investigation into the Chases’ citizen complaint. We’ll see how the other side holds up to a little heat.”
After disconnecting, Tony continued to maneuver through the congested streets of downtown Houston. He couldn’t help but feel the entire episode was spiraling out of control. “Where is this all going?” he whispered to the empty car. “How far are we going to take this?”
He knew enough of Karen to answer his own questions. “To the wall,” he whispered. “Come hell or high water, she won’t give in. That’s why she’s the DA.”
Chip delivered Manny at the promised time, Gabe relieved that his son’s greatest wish was going to go off without a hitch.
As the young girl rushed inside, the two fathers convened on the front stoop. Each had a dozen questions for the other.
“How’s Jacob holding up?” Chip began, his concern genuine.
“I’m worried,” came the honest reply. “His mother and I were so focused on his physical wellbeing; we didn’t pay any attention to the mental trauma. He’s not in a good place.”
Chip signaled his understanding, his eyes betraying his dejected mood. “Manny hasn’t been sleeping since this all went down, and quite frankly, neither have I. Like a needle stuck on a record player, I keep rerunning the events of that night in my mind, wishing I’d done things differently. Sometimes, I’d give anything to have it to do over; other times I tell myself I never want to experience anything like that again.”
“I hear you,” Gabe replied, “In a way, I’m glad I wasn’t there. Who knows what I might have done to protect my child? As bad as things are right now, they certainly could have been worse.”
“What I experienced was nothing compared to what Jacob endured,” Chip added. “I tussled with that big cop for less than three seconds. Jacob was on the receiving end of their bullshit for several minutes. I can’t imagine what is going through his mind.”
“Sandy and I are thinking about trying to get him some professional help. He keeps claiming that he’s just fine, but we know better. He has wanted to see Manny more than anything. Thanks for bringing her over.”
Chip waved off the gratitude. “I’m sure it will do both of them some good. There is one thing I think you need to keep in mind. For me, at least, the lingering mental anguish doesn’t have anything to do with the physical nature of the encounter. While getting pushed around sucked, that’s not what has been troubling me – like most guys, I’ve been in a fight before. What is eating my insides is the betrayal. I’ve always taught my kids to go to a cop if they get lost. Find a policeman – they’re there to help. You’ll be safe with a cop. Now, all of that trust seems misplaced. All those years of believing what it says on the side of their vehicles… to serve and protect… now I feel like such a fool for believing that.”
Gabe frowned, his thoughts having traveled the same road so many times in the last few days. “Do you really believe this isn’t an isolated incident? You sound convinced that there is a systemic problem with law enforcement.”
“Damned right I am. Since this all went down, I’ve been watching internet videos, perusing old newspaper reports, and generally paying more attention. So has Manny. I’ve read numerous studies, many by the government, others by law professors who monitor this sort of thing. After the events of September 11, law enforcement was granted a new status by the general public. Edicts like the Patriot Act served to embolden them even further. The American citizens let it slide, more worried about terrorist attacks than minor police overreach or any loss of civil liberty. Now, it’s gotten out of hand, and we’re all going to have hell to pay getting the genie back in the bottle.”
Shuffling his feet, Gabe wasn’t ready to agree wholeheartedly. “I still think the vast majority of cops are good men and women. I think there are a few bad eggs… and probably always have been. I’ve scrutinized the same videos as you, but I’m not ready to break out the torches and pitchforks just yet.”
Chip reached to grasp Gabe’s shoulder, squeezing gently to make sure his friend knew he was serious. “You might be right, but promise me one thing. Make sure that son-of-a-bitch that put your son in the hospital is taken off the streets. If we don’t make the bad apples pay, the rot will spread through the entire barrel, and then we’ll have no choice but revolution.”
Gabe’s smile was anything but a positive reaction. “Don’t worry about that, my friend. Hell’s fury has nothing on what’s simmering inside my soul. My last dime and breath will be spent bringing those bastards to justice.”
After a friendly exchange with Sandy, Manny found Jacob sitting up in his bed, staring blankly out the window.
“Some guys will do anything to get out of school,” she greeted, making her smile as bright and wide as she could manage.
Jacob’s face responded in kind, grinning widely and holding up his arms in an open invitation for a hug. The two teenagers embraced warmly, holding each other tight.
Manny sensed her boyfriend’s tears a moment later, an initial sniffle soon followed by quick, rolling sobs that shook his entire body. She held on, some basic instinct telling her that keeping him close was the best comfort she could provide.
His outburst pushed her over the edge as well, overwhelming her resolve to be cheerful and upbeat during the reunion. She joined him, letting go of everything she’d kept bottled up, expelling it on his shoulder.
Eventually their storm of weeping subsided, the convulsions of emotion gradually dissipating. Both of their shirts were soaked through with hot tears; neither seemed to notice or care.
“I’m such a wimp,” Jacob finally managed to croak. “I’m supposed to be so brave and resilient. I’m sorry about my outburst. I don’t think I’ve cried so much since I was a little boy.”
She waved him off, “Anybody would cry given what you’ve been through. It would be silly not to. Soldiers cry all the time, and nobody thinks they’re wimpy…. You have no reason to be ashamed.”
Her words drew a smile that did more to communicate the trust between them than anything he might have said aloud. “Thanks,” he simply responded in kind.
They held hands, the platonic gesture coming naturally for two people who sincerely cared about each other. It was shelter for Jacob, therapy for Manny. Both seemed content to sit and do only that.
Neither knew how long it lasted, time not a factor in their minds. Jacob was content with merely sitting and peering at his girl, Manny satisfied with returning his gaze.
“How are thi
ngs at school?” he finally ventured.
“Same old, same old. Everybody has been asking about you, wondering how you’re doing and how bad you were hurt. You have a lot of friends, Jacob. Don’t hesitate to be with them. The sooner you get back to your normal life, the better.”
His reaction wasn’t what Manny expected, a pained expression etching his face. He pointed toward the pair of crutches leaning in the corner and spoke with a harsh, hateful tone. “What life? That’s my life now, standing over there in the corner. I can’t play ball, I can’t even walk and carry my own books at the same time. I’m never going back… I can’t… I couldn’t look anybody in the face.”
The tears returned, but this time they were angry. “Why has everything changed, Manny? I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t hurt anybody, but I’m the brokenhearted one now. I didn’t ruin anybody’s life; yet mine has been trashed. Why? I just want God… or you… or my parents to explain why.”
His pain was crushing, the deep questions of essential existence more than what the teenage girl could handle. Lacking any other viable response, she again fell back on her instincts and pulled him close in an embrace. It was another five minutes before they cried themselves out for the second time.
When they made eye contact again, Manny had regrouped, all of her thoughts from the past few days coming clear. “You have to get back on the horse, Jacob,” she said sweetly, but firmly. “You are a winner, and winners don’t let setbacks like this keep them down for long. In ten years, when we’re married and having children of our own, we’ll look back and draw strength from this. I know you. I know me. I know we both will.”
He nodded, but something in his eyes told Manny he was still unsure.
She kept it up, trying to pace the conversation so as not to chase him back into the shadows of his memories. She wanted his thoughts moving forward and into the future. She chatted about tests and classes and who was dating whom these days. She brought him up to speed on the latest song just released by their favorite band.